Nameless
by all-uu-need-is-love
Summary: They all wanted to remain nameless, to remain shadows, whisks of the night. But just like a moth to a flame, they're drawn to each other, drawn to the people that bind them together. They wanted to forget, but forgetting is not an option when you're scarred. M for later themes. Pairings/OCS/Canons.
1. A Good Place

**So I was going to do a girl-on-the-island-fic, but then I was like, you know what, screw it. Those are overdone anyway. So instead, I've written this little after-the-island fic (again), centered mainly around Ralph (for now) and probably Jack. There will be OC'S (girls and boys) and pairings, so buckle your seatbelt and get ready. Now, on with the official junk...**

**THIS FIC IS BASED: 1946. Right after WWII in a coed boarding school in London named St. Haven's College (see my reference on college).**

**AGES: So far, there's only Ralph and new OC Daniel. Ralph is fifteen, Daniel is also fifteen:D**

**BASED ON: The book version:D**

**WARNINGS: A few naughty words, but other than that, none really, just extreme awkwardness from Ralph.**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything, you know, just in case you thought I did...?**

**A/N: This chapter is mainly fluff and background. It will escalate in intensity from here on out. (+) and a number signify a reference. **

**REFERENCES:**

**1) **College: In England/Australian/any place like that, _college_ is not necessarily a university. _College_ can more commonly be found to be _school_, as in a boarding school. In this context, it is a boarding school for children from ages 7-18.

**2) **Anything centered and italicized is a memory or dream. If an entire passage is italicized, just take it as a memory/dream as well. :D

**~ALL REVIEWS/COMMENTS/CRITIQUE APPRECIATED~**

**Well then...here you go:D**

"This is a good place," the wiry haired headmaster of St. Haven's College (1) said curtly, passing his tongue over his thin, cracked lips. "This is not a place of harm, but rather, safe-haven."

The fair haired boy followed the headmaster's gaze with his own dark blue eyes, watching each movement with wary attentiveness. There had been many places before St. Haven's that he had thought to be good - his own home, his mother's arms, the island...- yet each time, he was proved wrong.

The headmaster paid no heed to the boy's inner turmoil, and instead focused his gaze upon the navy commander beside him.

"Since your his father, it is my pleasure to inform you that we will take _every_ measure to help him..._adjust_." He said this with bitter gratification, wallowing in the man's curious gaze.

"The fee is hefty," the commander said with little emotion.

The headmaster nodded. "Yes, yes - but worth it, mind you."

The commander nodded once and gazed down at his son with weary solace, searching to find some sort of expression. The blonde boy showed nothing.

"Well then," the commander said quietly, clearing his throat. "You have your bags, don't you, Ralph?"

The blonde looked up at the mention of his name, a name which he had wished to leave behind so long ago. So far, he seemed to be the only one willing to forget.

"Yes," Ralph said, his throat dry from staying silent for so long. They had spent nearly four hours in the headmaster's office, sorting through bills and accommodating to his father's horrendously picky standards. Ralph, like always, found himself drifting, drifting towards the intricate pattern on the sealing or gazing up upon the St. Haven's emblem that hung proudly on the wall above the headmaster.

The headmaster grinned in practiced relief.

"Excellent. I'll let you get your things situated, and then I'll call for your housemaster to escort you to your room. Mr. Ambrose, you can say your goodbyes there, and then you can attend to your work."

"Thank you, Sir." Ralph's father was a very firm man - a loving man, but a strict one at that, with expectations and guidelines. Perhaps that was one thing wrong with Ralph; ever since his mother's departure, he hadn't quite been able to meet his father's standards. He tried his best to follow in his ill-paced footsteps, but no matter what he did, he couldn't appease the high-thinking man, the overseer of Ralph's life. His mentor. His only parent. His sanity.

Ralph's father arose from the red satin chair with eloquence, leaning over the headmaster's desk to meet his professional handshake. Ralph watched the quiet exchange with cold apprehension, all the while awaiting the silent beast within himself to curdle and squirm.

_Another decision I won't have to think about, I suppose_.

"Mr. Ambrose," the headmaster said again, peeling back a smile and nodding his head from Ralph's father to the blonde himself. "Ralph."

"Thank you again for being so compliant on such short notice," Ralph's father said appraisingly. "We couldn't be more appreciative, Mr. Plyer."

"Please." The now-named headmaster kept his steady grin. "Refer to me as Benjamin. You, however-" Mr. Plyer tossed a lazy look at Ralph. "-are to call me Mr. Plyer, as any respectable child would be expected to."

"Of course." Ralph's father was quick to agree. "Ralph knows to do that. He's a good boy."

"Wonderful." Mr. Plyer's dark gaze was fixed on the young blonde, gazing into his royal blue eyes. "Good boys belong in good places."

Ralph still wanted to forget.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Mr. Ambrose led his son briskly from the headmaster's office, all the while paying the young fifteen-year-old chary glances. He was a quiet boy, but a good one at that, with the natural Ambrose athlete build and an instant air of vague prominence. His son was perfectly imperfect, a masterpiece with a fleck of a flaw, a scripture with the slightest hint of wrongdoing.

He was everything society feared.

They were met by an overly gruff man named Mr. Royce, the housemaster for the boy's. He carried a blatant look of exhaustion, and everything about his character screamed _run_! His eyes fell upon Ralph with blank interest.

"Ralph Ambrose, I presume?" His voice was glazed over with a power indulged thickness, a tone Ralph often heard with famous politicians or authority figures. It was a tone of utter importance.

Ralph scrambled to answer.

"Yes Sir," he said quickly, meeting Mr. Royce's brief handshake with sweaty displeasure. Mr. Royce only gazed upon him with meager curiosity.

"Follow me." He noticed Mr. Ambrose and grunted. "You as well."

They ventured through rows of twisting corridors and polished white arches. Ralph was lost in the robotic symphony of footsteps falling upon marbled ground. Each corner of St. Havens was adorned by glistening trophy cases and carefully placed photographs, only adding to the school's spotless name. Finally, they landed upon a hallway of numbered doors. Mr. Royce huffed and landed one grubby hand into his coat pocket, obviously searching for something. When he found it, he plucked it out and revealed a folded piece of paper. Ralph waited anxiously as he unfolded the paper and silently read.

Mr. Royce looked up from the paper and sighed. "These are our dormitories for our male students. Rooms are arranged alphabetically and take up four stories of our building." He paused to let the quiet boast sink in before he continued impassively. "Our rooms are arranged by floor number. So, you are..._Ambrose_..._A_...A_m..._Alright, first story, number 64...your dorm room with be 164. Please follow me."

They did as instructed and followed the plump man across the hallway until they reached a whitewashed door with the golden, elegant numbers of _164_ plastered upon the door. Mr. Royce emerged with a key, and with little patience, he unlocked the door and flung it open, flouncing inside like he owned the entire facility. Mr. Ambrose had to nudge Ralph before he would even walk in.

The room was nice enough. There was one small window and a display of blue curtains - St. Haven's school color, Ralph noted. A dark brown nightstand separated two, single beds, and there was a closet between the two identical desks. Ralph regarded this with a sigh. _One closet_! That meant sharing his space with someone else. That meant having to actually _share_ his most personal belongings with a stranger. That meant conversation and people and talking and normalcy and...

His words escaped him. There were too many things that Ralph dreaded nowadays.

With a proud harrumph, Mr. Royce stared around the room and smiled.

"Your roommate won't arrive till later - you're early." His tone changed at this, like there was something peculiar about being early to boarding school. Ralph shrugged this off with mild indifference. It was protocol in the Ambrose family to be early to anything they ever attended, which was a sour bother if you happened to be a not-so-enthusiastic-fifteen-year-old-boy.

"You will be rooming with Daniel Ammora - fine lad, that one is. Once you get your schedules tomorrow, you will be able to see what classes you share. If you share a good majority of your lessons, then Daniel will be able to help show you around - which he'll be doing anyway, of course. Washrooms are down the hall to the right."

Ralph nodded at the housemaster and gulped. _Daniel Ammora_. That's who he would be sharing his wardrobe space with.

"Breakfast is at eight AM tomorrow, and there will be a short meeting that follows. You will then pick up your schedules and head to your classes. Daniel will instruct you the rest of the way. Any questions?"

Ralph shook his head stiffly and tried to stare through the stony-faced man. _A short meeting that follows_. He managed to retain a groan. Beginning of school year meetings were always the worst, with their rules-to-follow fluff and this-year-will-be-fantastic-if-you-work-to-make-it-that garbage. Ralph hated it. He hated it all, but that might be due to the fact that all his rules-to-follow fluff and this-year-will-be-fantastic-if-you-work-to-make-it-that garbage had failed miserably on the island. Likewise, it usually went to hell in schools as well.

Mr. Royce nodded at Ralph and eyed his suitcases, then hobbling the door.

"I'll give you a moment with your father."

With that, the two blondes were left on their lonesome with only the comfort of

Mr. Royce's fading footsteps and the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

Ralph felt like he was going to break. His father remained stoic, just like he always had.

"Ralph," Mr. Ambrose said quietly, staring down at his son. _Imperfectly perfect_...

"Father." Ralph choked on his name and fought to bite back tears.

Mr. Ambrose paid him a sharp stare. "Don't-"

"I know."

"This school will be good for you."

"I _know_."

"It won't be like the other one."

_Maybe that's because the other one was a psychiatric ward_. St. Haven's was the firstactual, _normal_ school Ralph was attending since he had returned home from the island He was frightened, frightened of being with people who weren't scarred and mangled internally from some supernatural incident. At the same time, he was relieved, relieved that for the first time in two years, he would treated like a _person_. Like a living, breathing, _thinking_ person.

He still dwelled on the thought that his father had left him alone in the psychiatric clinic, and once again, was leaving him behind.

Mr. Ambrose seemed to read his son's thoughts.

"I know you hate it," he murmured, resisting the urge to reach out and pat his son on the shoulder. "I hate it too. You know I do. But I have work, my boy. We're just coming out of a war. There's alliances to be settled and treaties to be dealt - I'm needed England. You understand that, don't you?"

"Is England really more important to you than your own son?" Ralph's words were bitter, bent, and jaded. Mr. Ambrose's sculptured features hardened at his words.

"You'll understand one day," was all he could manage to say. After all, there wasn't much he _could_ tell Ralph without somehow putting him in a dour mood. He regretted leaving Ralph, and he understood why his son was sometimes angry, but it still hurt. It cut like the heavy knife of a war-hungry man. Slow and painful.

"Focus on your studies." Mr. Ambrose cracked a small smile. "Try to stay out of trouble with the girls."

Even at his snide joke, Ralph didn't grin. He hardly grinned nowadays.

Mr. Ambrose awkwardly cleared his throat and straightened his posture, snapping back into commander mode. "Write me when you can. Remember-" His blue eyes softened. "-it's only temporary. It's only until I'm discharged. Then we'll find a home for ourselves. How does that sound?"

"Good." The answer was croak as Ralph valiantly tried to hide his tears. He remembered another time when his father had said it would only be temporary...

_"...there are bombs..." (2)_

"_...attacks..." _

"_...the plane will take you somewhere safe..."_

"_...it'll only be temporary, just until England is safe again..."_

"It wasn't temporary," Ralph blurted out, piercing through the realm of memory and reality. Mr. Ambrose stared with a quizzical glower.

"What wasn't temporary?"

Ralph managed to correct his stupid blunder.

"I meant that when you're discharged and we can have a home, it _won't_ be temporary."

Mr. Ambrose nodded at this, but still looked concerned.

"Exactly. Now, you be a good boy and this'll all be over in the matter of a year. I promise."

_Ralph was frightened. "Bombs? Attacks?" _

"_You'll be safe." His father smiled down at him._

"_Do you promise?"_

"_I promise."_

"Okay."

Mr. Ambrose tousled Ralph's hair like he used to when he was smaller, and with the swift turn of his shoulder, sauntered from Ralph's room and down the corridor.

Ralph could only listen as his father's footsteps fell in rhythm with Mr. Royce, and suddenly, he was all alone.

Ralph wanted to forget.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

"_Tell me your name."_

_The sharp naval officer flashed a small light into Ralph's eyes. Ralph was speechless. _

_He was literally incapable of words._

"_Tell me your name." _

_He couldn't remember. He thought very hard, and all he could remember was the roar of a burning fire, its tongues of flames licking up into the smoke soaked sky. He heard savage yells and battle cries, __**kill the pig**_**! **_There was a boy with a mulberry mark - nameless._

_A boy with dark black hair...__**You'll get back alright**__._

_A boy with glasses. __**What's your name**__?_

_He remembered that fateful day on the beach, where the boy with glasses had first asked him the question. __**What's your name?**_

_And then, just as if he was answering the boy again, the blonde quietly uttered, "Ralph. Ralph Ambrose." _

_He realized that he never ask the same question to the boy with glasses._

Ralph awoke with a start, only to find another boy in his room. He hadn't been expecting Daniel yet, but then again, he _had_ fallen asleep reading a book. His suitcases were still by the door in the exact place that Mr. Ambrose had left them. The book had slipped from his hands and now laid on the floor, bent and twisted at an odd angle. The room, however, was no longer bare, and was now littered with the various possessions of the _other_ boy...Daniel. Daniel Ammora. Ralph compressed a groan and dug a fist into his sleepy eye, staring somewhat nervously at the brown headed boy who sat cross legged on the floor, unpacking the rest of his things. He regarded Ralph with a small smile.

"I didn't want to wake you," he said, his voice even and composed. "You were asleep when I got here. I left your things by the door."

Ralph nodded and swallowed thickly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. When he said nothing, Daniel went on.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

This caught the blonde off guard. "What?"

"You were kicking and murmuring in your sleep," Daniel said calmly, his eyes steady with Ralph's gaze. "I though that you ought to be having a nightmare. I mean - that's what I do when I have a rough dream. I toss and turn."

With the slight tip of his head, Ralph reached back and scratched his neck, purposely avoiding Daniel's stable gaze. "Uhh...yeah...I mean...I guess it could've been a nightmare..."

"Nightmares can be a bother." A brief look of interest passed over Daniel's expression. "Care to share?"

"No," Ralph said quickly, his tone more defensive than he would've preferred.

Daniel took no notice of it and quietly returned to his suitcases. It was a moment before either one of them spoke again.

"What time is it?" Ralph asked idly, stretching his arms and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He chose the one closest to the window.

Daniel took a cursory glance at his wristwatch and replied, "Quarter to six. They serve dinner at seven if you wanna go."

"Are you going?" Ralph felt stupid to ask.

Daniel nodded. "Yeah. A couple of mates are gonna be there too."

_Great. Bloody fun-fucking-tastic. _

At Ralph's silence, Daniel glanced up and frowned. "So you gonna go?"

"Sure." Ralph wasn't sure how the syllable escaped him, but somehow, it had. And now he couldn't take it back.

"Wicked." Daniel was pleased at his reply. "Dinner's served at seven every night, just in case they didn't tell you."

"Well they didn't."

"They're hopeless. They rely on the prefects to do everything."

At this, Ralph raised an eyebrow. "Prefects? Are you one?"

Daniel laughed at this. "Fuck no. Only the year eleven and twelve's can be prefects. They're bloody annoying." Daniel glanced at Ralph's empty suitcases and sighed. "You gonna unpack?"

"Sure." Again, the syllable seemed to escape him, for if there was one thing Ralph _didn't _want to do, it was unpack. Unpack all the things that reminded him of who he was. With a quick grumble, he jumped from the bed and made his way over to the door, feeling for the cool handle and creaking it open.

"I'm going to wash up," he called, not staying to catch Daniel's reaction. In all honesty, he hardly cared.

He followed Mr. Royce's instructions and passed through the hallway and to the right, landing himself straight in a sector entitled, _WASHROOMS_. The washroom was clean and gave off a heavy scent of bleach and soap, a familiar scent Ralph would never take for granted _ever_ again. He sauntered by the showers and toilets, surprised how empty the entire room was. He finally came across the wash basins and mirrors and stopped when he glimpsed at himself in the reflective glass.

The boy who stared back was impossibly not him.

He wasn't wearing the St. Haven's uniform yet. All his uniforms were tucked away in his suitcases where they belonged, where _he_ truly belonged - hidden away and safe from society. He wore a simple white button down shirt and knee length pants, the suitable style for boys his age. He had finally grown into his form - an athlete's build, with wide shoulders and toned muscles. His skin still glowed with the stain of a summer sun, which inevitably made his dark blue eyes look even brighter and bluer against the tan of his face. Golden strands of hair fell into a wavy fringe over his forehead - he had only just had it cut, but even still, the tips curled over the top of his ear and grazed the skin above his eyebrow. His face was handsome - handsome, but worn. Tired. Exhausted. Hardened beyond his years. Beneath the youthful gaze there was a sloughing shadow. Ralph could feel it twinge beneath his skin, and at it, his fist curled.

"Oi!"

The call came from behind him, and Ralph was presently pushed aside by a dark haired boy with shaving cream splattered across his face. He looked upon Ralph with little interest and moved towards the mirror.

"Got a razor?"

Ralph shook his head dumbly. A razor? "No...sorry..."

The boy smiled. "Course you don't. You don't have a hair to shave."

Ralph gingerly touched his jaw, unmarked by the prickling sting of stubble. The boy laughed.

"What year are you?"

"Nine."

"New?"

"Yeah."

"I could tell. What's your name?"

"_What's your name?"_

_The boy was fat and strange and he breathed kind of funny._

_Ralph found him to be queer_.

"Ralph. Ralph Ambrose."

The boy nodded and pulled a razor from his pocket, leaning towards the mirror to get a good shave. "I'm Peter. Peter Dean. Year twelve."

Ralph nodded and turned to leave Peter, but was interrupted by a call.

"You should join our rugby team! We need lads like you!"

Ralph grumbled a reply and turned on his heel, glad to be rid of the annoyance of innocent strangers. _If only they knew_...

When he got back, Daniel was completely unpacked and sat quietly on his bed, absorbed in a crossword puzzle. Ralph entered quietly and met Daniel's green eyes with an annoyed glare.

"Dinner's soon."

Daniel's words hung like fog across the room, slipping across Ralph's now sweaty skin and making him anxious.

"Right."

Ralph wanted to forget. Ralph wanted to remain a shadow. Ralph wanted to be nameless.

**A/N: For all of you following my other after island fic, **_**Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night**_**, expect an update soon;**


	2. Privileged

**Hii! I'm going to get straight to it, so…..**

**AGES: Yay for more people...so ages...Abigail: 15, Francesca: 15, all of Daniel's friends: 14-15. Roger: 14. Maurice: 15. Bill: 15. (I made Roger the baby dawh)**

**Warnings: Swearing, implications of sexual content (there's like hardly any in this chapter but I just want to be safe...), more awkwardness from Ralph...**

**DISCLAIMER: Still don't own anything.**

**A/N: All reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you for your support! :)**

**REFERENCES:**

**Queer: I do not mean this in the misconstrued manner that it is used today. In the forties (particularly in England), queer simply meant 'strange' or 'odd'. Just clearing that up.**

**2) Institution: As in 'mental institution'. Yes, Ralph was with the crazies. **

**~ALL REVIEWS/COMMENTS/CRITIQUE APPRECIATED~**

Abigail Brooks watched the fair haired boy enter through the arched doorway into the dining hall, following none other than Daniel Ammora, a boy she had never truly taken the time to get to know. The fair haired boy was handsome, and from the looks on her giggling friends's faces, she could tell she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"New kid," Francesca said beside her, craning her neck to get a full scope of the blonde boy. He was uncertainly trailing behind Daniel as they went to collect their meals. Abigail nodded and cleared her throat.

"S'pose so."

"Wonder where he's from," Francesca mused, leaning on her elbows and slyly grinning. "Maybe he's French."

A couple other girls squealed in excited agreement, but Abigail couldn't find the power within herself to laugh along. She was naturally a shy girl, with brown silken curls and stormy grey eyes. Compared to someone like Francesca, who was outwardly outgoing and friendly, Abigail always seemed awkward. She didn't mind, though. It had never really affected her. Not until now.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Francesca said suddenly. A couple of the giggling girls cheered in enthusiasm.

"I'll go with you," Cassidy, a pale girl with silvery hair, offered.

Francesca nodded in reluctant compliance and threw an offhand stare at Abigail. Already known the answer, she smiled cattily and asked, "You coming, Abby?"

Abigail grew deathly silent and stared down at her half-empty plate. No. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to stutter and look like an idiot, like she always did when she talked to boys. She was hopeless.

Francesca nodded at her solemnity and arose, Cassidy mimicking her every action.

"Let's go," she said with a grin, licking her lips and tugging Cassidy by the elbow. The pale blonde followed her obediently. Abigail watched in pursed silence as the duo made their merry way over to the fair haired boy.

She felt excruciatingly lonely.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Ralph took a seat beside Daniel and tried to avoid looking at the various other boys who had spontaneously joined them. Daniel was gleeful about their presence, and playfully nudged each one in the shoulder and laughed. There were three other boys, and when Daniel finally tapped Ralph on the shoulder, he looked up from his mashed potatoes and stared. The three other boys were grinning at him.

"You're new, yeah?" The dark headed one asked, his accent strongly cockney.

Ralph gave a short nod and the boy laughed. "Not much of a talker, are ya?"

The three boys took their seats and dug into their food, vigorously destroying the potatoes and roast beef in a matter of minutes. Ralph stared down at his food and felt queasy...eating had become a rarity for him now. He found himself drifting as Daniel told yet another story about his summer

"...so we went to Italy, right, and there's this girl..."

"Not again!" The boy next to Ralph slammed down his milk glass and laughed. "Always got yourself a girl." He glanced at Ralph and saw his curious stare, then smiled and continued. "Daniel's practically been through every girl in the school."

"S'not true!" But Daniel was grinning. The boy went on.

"I'm Richard, by the way. This is Andrew-" He gestured to the dark headed boy. "-and Michael."

Michael, the one in the middle, raised his hand and waved, his strawberry blonde hair curling slightly at the tips. Richard gazed expectantly at Ralph, but the blonde was lost for words. He racked through his mind, unsure of what to do.

_Someone introduces themselves to you. What do you say back...what do you do..._

"_I'm Piggy."_

_Piggy._

_The boy with the glasses._

"Piggy."

All four of the boys looked confused. Ralph was horrified.

"Piggy?" Richard turned the name over in his head and frowned. "That your name?"

"No," Daniel interjected, giving Ralph a sharp glare. _What's wrong with you? _"His name's Ralph."

"Why'd he say Piggy?"

"I dunno." Daniel took a bite of meat. "Ask him."

"I just..." Ralph desperately tried to grasp the words, but they fumbled out as rubbish. "I meant..."

Ralph was saved from explanation as a manicured hand curled around Daniel's shoulder, earning the gazes from the other boys. Daniel looked up in surprise and grinned when he saw a fetching girl smiling back down at him with rose colored lips. Her ruby red curls were pinned in a pile on her head, and she took haste in sitting down on the table beside Daniel. Ralph watched as her delicate hand made its way to Daniel's hair, stroking it with affection. Daniel only smirked.

"Well, well, well," she purred, smiling as her friend giggled from over her shoulder. "If it isn't Daniel Ammora."

"What do you want, Franny?" Daniel smile was tight and smug.

The girl glowered. "Don't call me that, you daft bug." Her eyes flitted from Daniel until she met the gaze of Ralph, and suddenly, her dark glare was replaced by a sickly sweet smile. "Who's your friend?"

The boys exchanged curious stares. Richard leaned over and smacked Ralph on the back.

"His name's Ralph. He's new."

"Rooming with Daniel?" The girl's voice was glazed over in sinful delight as she drank Ralph in.

Ralph gave a stiff nod and the boys laughed.

"He's quiet," Michael explained, staring at the girl with sudden hunger. She was one the most popular at the school, and on any other occasion, would've ignored him completely. "Not for your boastful self, Francesca."

The redhead, now named Francesca, cackled gaily and slipped down from the table to the space between Daniel and Ralph. Daniel raised his eyebrows and jeered, comfortably shifting his weight so that his hip was crudely nudged in beside hers. Francesca sneered and elbowed him hard in the side, then returning her pining gaze towards the handsome blonde before her.

"I'm Francesca Demayer." She paused and flicked her fingers through Ralph's blonde hair, giggling when he flushed bright red. "Are you French by any chance?"

The question stooped Ralph. He stuttered with boyish confusion.

"Wh...what? No..I'm...I'm..."

"She's teasing," Daniel hooted from behind Francesca, his green eyes bright.

"I am not." Francesca glanced over at her pale friend and smiled. "This is Cassidy. Cassidy, this is Ralph."

Ralph was absolutely at a loss for words. There he was, with a plate of food he knew he was never going to eat, right snug next to a girl much chirpier than him, and still he felt a strong disposition. He just wanted to go home. _Home_ - home with Mummy and Daddy and his older brother Joseph...

"Miss. Demayer!"

Ralph's thoughts were interrupted by the booming voice of a pig-faced teacher, her grey hair wound up like a nest on the back of her head. At the sound of her screeching call, Francesca jumped and removed her hand from Ralph's silken locks, her light blue eyes frenzied.

"Miss. Demayer!" The teacher had made her angry way over to the table, and now was passing glares between the two girls, Daniel, and Ralph. "Just _what_ in the name of _grace_ do you _think_ you are _doing_?"

Francesca sat innocently between the boys and pretended to be clueless.

"I...I...I was just..."

"You know that public display of affection is _strongly_ prohibited here!" The teacher tapped a furious finger against her chin and narrowed her eyes at Daniel. "And _you_, Mr. Ammora - what example are setting for the new boy?"

"Ralph," Michael corrected quietly. "That's his name."

The teacher ignored Michael's sentiment and pulled Francesca's shoulder, tugging her up roughly and throwing one last disgusted glare at the boys.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If I see any more of this...this..._adultery_, you will all earn yourselves a Saturday school detention." She paused to look at Ralph, as if he was the sole instigator of the event. "And that goes for you too, Ryan."

"It's Ralph," the blonde muttered tonelessly, but the teacher had already shuffled away, pulling the two girls with her. As soon as she was gone, a storm of curses went about through the boys.

"That old hag!" Michael grumbled, picking at the rest of his plate. "That'll be the last bloody time a girl like that ever talks to me!"

Richard snorted. "Wasn't here for you, Mike." He passed a glance at Ralph and smirked. "She wants the fresh meat."

"Not if Mrs. Woodrier can help it." Daniel voice was tired and pallid. "The old witch."

Andrew laughed. "That's funny. Last time I checked, Francesca always gets what she wants." His eyes flitted to Ralph. "And she wants him."

"Something new to add to her naughty repute, huh?"

"I'd take a piece of Franny. I mean, look at her..."

"Hey!" Daniel's voice came as a frustrated groan. The three others boys stared up guiltily at their friend and then back at Ralph, who looked considerably paler than before. His lips were dry and pursed, and his knuckles had turned white from where he had been clutching them. It was an aggravating thought - not the girl, he couldn't care less about that - but the teacher, and the attention, and the already waning reputation. He tried to suppress a groan and averted his darkening gaze, wishing so heartily that he could just go home.

"We didn't mean it like that," Andrew murmured softly, drumming his fingers along the side of his empty plate. "We just..."

Ralph nodded at the boy, but still refused a glance. He wasn't hungry, and the sickening smell of food and strenuous noise of chatter was rattling his frame.

_Like a loon._

_A batty loner._

_Like Simon._

No. He smiled grimly. Simon wasn't a loon. He wasn't a loner of any sorts. Simon had been smart, mature, _wise_. He wasn't afraid of the Beast that resided within them all - unknowingly, of course. The beast took home in all human beings, even the four the boys that sat silently beside Ralph, waiting for some sort of humane reaction. But the blonde was absorbed in his thoughts, absorbed in the fact that when he stared at Daniel and Richard and Michael and all specimens of the human race, he didn't see teasing schoolboys-

He saw painted faces. Bared teeth and dirty nails. Wild, unruly hair. A lust for murder. A lust for power. A lust for blood.

Ralph abruptly arose from the table, attracting the gazes from a few students sitting nearby. The boys around him looked up with factious concern, all the while gripping his actions with curious interest.

"You'll have...have to excuse me," Ralph mumbled before he stumbled away from the table towards the door. Daniel called after him.

"Ralph! Wait up!"

His calls were ignored as the blonde clambered through the dizzying halls. He followed the signs and plaques leading to each room or corridor, but even still, he ended up lost in the middle of the campus. Lost and taken in despair. He wanted to cry, and he almost did - after all, the tears that threatened behind the blue irises of his eyes stung like the soft pierce of acid rain. His sobs, however, were retained when he heard a familiar sound. A familiar, soothing sound.

_Alleluia_

_Alleluia_

_For the Lord God Almighty Reigns_

The sweet sound of choral unison eased the pain behind Ralph's eyes, and suddenly, his stuttering mind was brought to an ever-ending closure. The soft words rang through his mind and reminded him faintly of the old days, the good days, where Mummy and Daddy had taken him to chapel and the choir had sung...

_Alleluia_

_Alleluia_

_For the Lord God Almighty Reigns_

Choir.

The word tinged his soothed thoughts with a foul tasting memory. Choir. It brought back bitter recollections, things that Ralph had tried so hard to forget. He heard the choir director chanting orders from behind two heavy doors, and somewhat timidly, Ralph pushed his hands up against the framed wood and looked inside.

_Simon wasn't afraid__**. **__He faced the Beast_.

And Ralph would face the Beast too.

His thoughts were thrown awry when he took a long, somewhat unwillingly glance at the choir, all dressed up in their dark robes and matching black caps. There were about twelve of them, varying in size and age. None of them truly looked familiar, which was an alleviating thought. _Nobody to fear. Nobody like _them. That is, until he saw a shock of red hair curling out from under a black cap.

Ralph's heart splintered, and a well-loathed prickling feeling made its tremulous way through his spine. The redhead's ice blue eyes met Ralph's, and like a final combustion, the tension around them both exploded.

"_Jack."_

_Ralph glanced up from the shimmering conch in his hands and frowned. "Pardon?" _

"_I told you that I prefer to go by Merridew, didn't I?" The redhead knelt down beside Ralph and smiled. "But, since you're chief and all, I assumed it'd just be easier to go by Jack."_

_Ralph was still dumbfounded. "What do you mean?" _

"_I mean that you can call me Jack." The boy's eyes glittered in anxious satisfaction. "And nobody calls me Jack."_

The Beast was back, and all Ralph could do was dumbly twist his body around, bolt through the door and back down the hallway, until he finally landed in the boys's washroom where he could finally cry.

_Jack gave Ralph a friendly smack on the shoulder and grinned. "Consider yourself privileged."_

_Privileged._

**(randompagebreakhere)**

"Ralph?"

Jack had literally stopped singing, and now everyone in choir stared at him in certain confusion. Jack, however, hardly noticed. His heart was thudding hard against his chest as his fingers tightened around the music stand in front of him. Mr. Doyle, the choir director, stared in bewildered concern.

"Mr. Merridew? Are you alright?"

Jack stared away from the empty doorway where Ralph had stood only moments ago and met the discerning gaze of his teacher.

"I'm fine." His tone was venomous.

Mr. Doyle remained unconvinced. "Do you need a small break?"

Jack watched as the other choir boys murmured and shrugged, all befuddled by Jack's sudden outbreak.

_Who's Ralph? _

_ What's he on about? _

_ Bloody nutter_.

"I'm fine," Jack snapped again, paying a dark glare to his fellow choristers. At the cold gaze, they immediately silenced themselves, obedient to their obvious leader. From beside the redhead, Roger shifted uncomfortably, staring in wondrous curiosity at Jack. He knew exactly who Ralph was, but for Jack to randomly blurt out his name? Something was amiss, and Roger was determined to seek what it was.

"Mr. Doyle-"

"Later, Roger. Now, can we please continue from where we left off before Mr. Merridew's...er..._incident_. Alright, carry on!"

_Alleluia_

_Holy_

_Holy are You Lord God Almighty_

_Worthy is the Lamb_

_Worthy is the Lamb_

The voices blended is such innocent beauty, Jack nearly forgot all about Ralph.

Nearly.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

"I saw him," Jack whispered curtly as he trailed down the hall with Roger. Maurice and Bill, who had also been at the strange choir practiced, hurried to keep up, anxious to know whatever Jack had witnessed.

Roger stared up at Jack, who was considerably taller than he. A wild enthusiasm festered in the redhead's eyes.

"I'm sure you did," Roger snorted, earning a laugh from the two boys that followed behind them. "There is no way in hell that that daft bugger would come to _our_ school."

"I saw him," Jack said again, his voice quivering at the idea of it. "He was there. In the doorway. And when he saw me, he ran away."

"You sure it wasn't some first year that we beat up on?"

"I'm sure." Jack stopped in the middle of the corridor, a sadistic smile curling upon his freckled face. "Roger?"

Roger glanced up dutifully at the sound of his name. "Yes?"

"Say it was him, just theoretically."

"Alright." Roger shrugged.

Jack's smile grew. "Well, he saw me."

"And?"

"And he ran away."

Maurice cackled and shoved his way between the two. "Like a girl!"

Jack sniggered and roughly pulled on Roger's elbow, forcefully tugging him along as they walked. Roger grunted in resilient compliance and allowed himself to whisked away by the overly excited redhead.

"What does it matter to you?" Roger grumbled, stumbling over his own feet. Jack laughed.

"What does it matter to _you_, Roger?"

This shocked the begrudging boy. "I'm not the one who's claiming to have seen-"

"Say it is Ralph." Jack had stopped walking again and now playfully pinned Roger up against the wall of the corridor. "Don't tell me there's not a million things you'd like to do to him."

Roger, repulsed, looked away and gagged. "You are _vile_, Jack. Absolutely disgusting-"

He was rewarded with a hard smack on the head.

"Head out of the gutter, you git." Jack's eyes were two bright pools of blue, infinite and ever-daring. "I mean, think about it. You wanted his head back on the island. His blood. Remember?"

This lit Roger's nerves ablaze. He knew that a darkening sin nature curled within the depths of him - he liked pain. It fascinated him. But he had been trying - _trying_, for the sake of his pitiful, respected parents to hide it. They were renowned in England, and if their only child proved to be sadistic, it would tarnish everything they had ever worked for. Jack knew this, understood this, and had even encouraged Roger to help and 'adjust' back into society, but _now_? He was purposely enflaming Roger's urge, initiated the Beast that they all feared. Roger had wanted Ralph's head, his blood, his lifeless carcass. But that was long ago- he had changed.

Or at least he had wanted to change.

"Shut up," Roger snapped, pushing away from his redhead captor. Jack grinned at his friend.

"You and Maurice - you torment the first years all year long, but don't you desire something..._worthier_ of your time?"

"First years suffice," Roger muttered dismissively, storming down the hallway. Maurice and Bill, who had watched silently, now followed Roger, snickering and making crude jokes. Jack ran after them.

"They _suffice_," Jack whispered in hostile delight, slinging his arm around Roger and tousling his raven hair. "But they don't _appease_."

"It might not have even been him!"

"It was." Jack's eyes were dark and daring as a smile curled around his lips. "I know it."

The sound of boyish giggling rounded the corner, and almost immediately, the four boys straightened up, acting as if none of this 'Ralph-talk' had even ever occurred. Likewise, Jack watched in pure contempt when the owner's of the laughs bounded through the corridor with little care and consideration for the four choir boys. It was unsurprisingly Daniel Ammora and his gang.

With a quiet snort, Jack leaned into Roger and whispered, "The only thing I hate

more than fat, lazy kids are athletic, cocky bastards."

Roger nodded stiffly, his eyes trailing the other four boys. They had been rivaling groups for a while now - choir bullies versus athletic bullies. It wasn't a matter of popularity. At St. Haven's, the choirboys were just as respected as the swimmers or rugby players. The only real competition between the gangs was in fear and who could reek the most.

Jack looked up Daniel with mild apprehension.

"Ammora." He tried not to scoff a laugh at the ridiculous name.

Daniel returned Jack's gaze with a smug smirk.

"Merridew."

A few moments of arduous tension slipped by. Both the groups now stared in intimidation at the other, glaring at the sudden disposition. Finally, Daniel glanced at his cronies, gave that horrendously stupid smirk that Jack loathed so much, and nodded.

"Shouldn't you be at tea?"

Jack laughed - _actually_ laughed - at Daniel's pathetic claim.

"I had practice." His own egotistical view practically radiated off his freckled skin. He looked upon a smudge on Daniel's sweater in disdain. "What did you do, have a food fight?"

His friends sniggered from behind him, all the while keeping a dead stare with Daniel's lot. A series of eye-rolling and _lay-off_'s went up through the four.

Daniel touched the smear on his sweater and chuckled.

"Ran into Francesca Demayer. Couldn't keep her hands off of me."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure."

"It's _true_."

"She wasn't after _you_," Richard piped up from behind his friend, gaining the attentively confused gazes of the choirboys. With a sly smile, Richard leaned in and continued. "She wants his new roommate, the blondie."

"The blondie?" Jack frowned.

Richard nodded fervently as he spoke. "Yeah. Oddest bloke you'll ever meet, but he's easy on the eyes. Girls swarmed him like he was made from honey or something."

_Of course._ He fit the conceited git mold that Jack assigned to all of Daniel's friends.

Jack took a confident stride forward, nearly closing the gap between his body and Daniel's. The hate was eminent. It was such a fierce feeling of contempt that it overwhelmed Jack with its sole purpose of abhorrence. In fact, he had only ever felt such an intolerably antipathy for one other person, and that person reminded Jack sickly of Daniel.

"Well," Jack said with a curt smile. Daniel's cheeks had flushed, and his fingers were already recoiling into a fist. _Touchy bastard._ Jack noted this with boastful glory. "I s'pose this'll be a fun year, then."

"Guess so." And just like that, Daniel pulled away, unnerved and irritated by Jack's act of closure. It was an invasion of his space, definitely not something the star rugby player was used to.

With one last sneer, Daniel reached out and grabbed his nearest cronies's hands - Richard and Andrew - before he gestured for Michael to follow. The four boys disappeared down the hall, leaving the choristers triumphant in the quarrels. Jack turned around on his heel to meet his feverish companions with the same mild elation.

"Well, come along." He tipped his head and looked towards the dormitories.

"School's in the morning."

The four choristers dispersed down the hallway, each intoxicated by their own realm of exhilarating thoughts.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

Daniel returned back to the dorm later than Ralph, and even in the dim light of the room, it was apparent that the green eyed boy was flustered. Ralph had been lounging casually on his bed, attempting to lose himself in the book he was currently reading, but everything seemed to be a distraction. The loose curtain. The twig that nimbly tapped on the window. The noise of boys down the hallway. The look of Jack Merridew when he caught Ralph's exhausted gaze.

The last one forced a shudder from Ralph. Presently, he put down the book and stared over at his roommate, carefully trying to configure his expression without prying.

Daniel looked completely and utterly fazed.

"Are you alright?" Ralph asked quietly, leaning up from his bed. The sheets rustled beneath him as he shifted his weight.

Daniel snorted and lazily kicked his shoes off.

"Are _you _ alright? What was that at dinner? You just got up...and left!"

Blush tainted the summer soaked skin of Ralph's face. He looked away from the boy beside him and instinctively brought his fingernail to his lips, gnawing the brittle thing until it broke off. It was a habit from the island that he was having trouble breaking.

"I was tired," Ralph muttered. _Pathetic lie, you git_. "And that teacher scared me."

Daniel laughed boisterously.

"Who, Mrs. Woodrier? Don't let her get your knickers in a knot. She's an oppressive bit-"

"I get it." Ralph startled the boy by cutting him off, an action very few at St. Haven's would dare today. Daniel shrugged it off with mild annoyance and rolled his wide shoulders back, sighing in relief when they cracked. He threw an offhand glance at Ralph and sighed.

"...some people."

"What?"

"Not you." Daniel jumped back on his bed, leaning towards the pillows. "Another bloke. Long time rival."

"And?"

"He's queer (1)." His eyes caught the blonde's and a mutual feeling of respect was exchanged. "You probably don't know him."

Ralph quirked an eyebrow in mocking surprise as a grin materialized on his face.

"Probably not. All the more reason to vent, I s'pose."

Daniel laughed, but nevertheless shook his head at the proposal.

"School's tomorrow. We should sleep."

The other boy reluctantly listened. _Sleep_. That was something he hadn't done in days. Sleep was a treasure back at the institution (2). If you weren't being prodded with needles or medication, then you were having 'constructive therapy'. Whenever you could finally lay your head down to try and _get_ sleep, the man next to you would holler or the woman across the hall would decide that an ogre was trying to eat her baby and scream bloody murder. Ralph had learned to live without sleep. He had learned to live without a lot of things. Friends, for one. He used to have lots of friends, like Daniel. Now he had trouble making them. It was alright, though. He got along fine.

These thoughts plagued Ralph's sore mind as he finally (and remarkably) drifted into another restless night.

**(randompagebreakhere)**

_And in the dark clearing, the redhead wove his way in and out of the forest, threading a trail like a spider and web. _

_He smelt fear, thick like the smoke that soaked the air._

_He licked his dry lips; once on instinct, twice as a caution._

_Roger shifted from behind him, his weight distribution tilting ever so gently._

"_...got me a knife." _

_Roger's voice, still wonderfully accented in English, was a dull thrum on the night air._

_Jack shivered._

_It was cold._

_He stared around for a flash of blonde hair._

_The privileged one had to die._

_Jack wanted blood - slippery and ever so sweet._

_Jack wanted his blood._

_He would never leave him alone, not alive._

_Always there, always teasing, just beyond Jack's fingertips._

"_...fuck it!" _

_Eyes were alert, bodies tense as they grazed the jungle's ground._

_The blonde was close, Jack could feel his breaths. His heart. His very soul._

_Jack sucked in his breath. "He's here." _

_Roger stood, poised and ready._

_Maurice crawled down on all fours, growling like an animal._

_Bill laughed. Bill was a duffer._

_Robert stood close to Roger, close enough that the sweat from their bodies melded the paint on their skin._

_Jack looked around._

"_He's here."_

_They stared in silent anticipation._

"_He's here."_

_The Beast grinned. The blonde ran. The chase was on._

**Yay. For those of you following **_**Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night**_**, I've written half a chapter, but I'm having writer's block with that fiction, so there might be a wait. I'll have it done soon though. :D Thank you for your patience. LOVE YOU GUYS XX :**


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